


I Don't Want To Be Lonely Anymore

by Losterly



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 09:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Losterly/pseuds/Losterly
Summary: Karen desperately misses Frank.





	I Don't Want To Be Lonely Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> This is fluff and zero substance - I have no ability to create a complete narrative but I cannot stop thinking about these jerks.

She hasn’t heard from him in weeks. Hasn’t seen him in even longer. Seventy-three days actually. She often thinks of putting out the flowers, when she’s worried, but as desperately as she wants to see him, she won’t crowd him. She decides it’s best to give him time. To give him space. 

If she’s being honest, she’s been trying to drink away his smile. She’s lonely tonight. It’s an aching, hungry kind of lonely. There’s no amount of liquor to quelch this empty feeling. She wasn’t often one to give into her sadness, but tonight she was leaning headlong into it. Tears begin to fall, first slow and gentle, then giving way to rolling sobs that leave her cheeks salty and eyes pink and swollen. She gives a hoarse laugh when she thinks about the absurdity of all of this. Frank Castle made her cry - not out of fear, but out of longing. 

Life continues. The steady routine of working late, ordering in for dinner, and always a drink or two before bed to usher sleep. Her dreams conjure velvety black landscapes but she’s not sure who she hopes to see in them. 

Trish and Clare invite her out for drinks, they insist, so she agrees. It’s a small, albeit trendy bar. The trio attracts plenty of attention, though they’re only interested in one another. They muddle their way through the usual pleasantries until Clare simply states: “Everything is so different now.” They laugh, small and polite at first then growing into cackles that draw the ire of those nearby. The women begin to drink in earnest to shake loose the responsibilities they've since been saddled with. They’re loud, they’re having fun, they finally stumble off into separate cabs to make their way home. 

She’s safely back in her apartment and the levity of the night is ebbing away just like her buzz. She catches a glimpse of the flowers he gave her. Impulsively she rushes to open the window and sets them on the sill. Flush with resolve, she begins a playlist before beginning to undress. She sways in the mirror, _take the night off_ , she unzips the back of her dress. _Be bad for me_ , she slowly guides her hand over left shoulder to let the dress free from her figure. The right shoulder slides down over her bare skin while she’s lost in the music. The fabric gathers around her waist. She hopes he’s watching. Her hands begin to explore her warm skin. They follow the soft indentations along her collarbone.They trail down her stomach, pausing just briefly on either side of her navel. She closes her eyes, still gently swaying. The dress falls from her lithe body. 

He still makes a point to visit her neighborhood always watching her window, searching for a sign. Tonight the clean white petals stand out against the grungy soot-stained brick walls of Karen’s building. He’s confused at first, he stands transfixed. Hope gives way to fear - why tonight, what’s wrong? Frank rushes towards the door to find it locked. He fumbles around in his pockets desperately searching for his phone, and once he’s found it he aggressively dials her number. “Pick up the phone Karen.” he mutters to himself. 

She is lost in herself, enveloped in the electric atmosphere of the music and her emotions, her need. She doesn’t hear the soft vibration of her phone on the table in the other room. 

Frank’s hearts races, “Shit.” he cusses. With haste he takes the planned route along half the perimeter of the building until he reaches a fire escape. His movements are precise and practiced - he knows seven different routes into and out of her building. This is the quickest given the protection of darkness. It takes three minutes to ascend the building from the street. Her apartment is dimly lit and he only hears music. His eyes meticulously scan the room to assess the situation - until a flash of skin captivates him. His breath catches in his throat. Instinctively his eyes dart down towards the floor. They settle upon the black fabric crumpled near Karen’s feet. His gaze moves slowly up her calves, watching her sway in the mirror. Her eyes remain closed. She’s silhouetted. She looks like she’s glowing. Frank hasn’t seen something this beautiful since he can’t remember when. He shouldn’t be sitting out here watching, and he certainly doesn’t want to stop. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and exhales. He steels himself and taps on the window. 

Karen shrieks, startled from her reverie. Her head spins to find the source of the noise. She laughs loudly. “Jesus Frank, you scared the shit out of me.” She floats across the room and throws the window open, the cold night air biting at her skin. She’s suddenly aware of how exposed she is, awkwardly wrapping her arms around her chest. She thinks how glad she is to be wearing that cute lacey black bra and panty set she bought two months ago on a whim. She laughs at how ridiculous this is - she wanted him here, she invited him when she put the roses out. She just didn’t think he’d actually come. 

Frank is uncertain about what he’s stumbled upon. He tries to look everywhere but at her pale pink skin. His eyes scan the living room and kitchen of her apartment. They dart back to her bedroom and the mirror that she was just standing in front of. What the hell was she doing anyway? “I, uh, I tried to call.” He manages to stammer out. 

“Oh? Well that would be the first time in months that you’ve tried to talk to me.” Karen raises her arms in a combination of frustration and exasperation. 

“I’m no good for you, Karen.” He responds in a gruff whisper. 

“You don’t get to decide that for me, Frank. _I_ get to decide what is good for me. _I_ get to decide what I want.” Her resolve crumbles, she feels stupid for putting out the flowers. Stupid for drinking. Stupid for the music and the heady thoughts that resulted in her current state of undress. Her emotions betray her, tears swell and leave salty trails down her cheeks. 

“Shh. Shh, shh.” Frank races through the window and wraps himself around her. He gently cradles her face in his hands. He doesn’t stop to think - he just reacts. He begins to kiss her tears away, slow, delicate kisses spread from one cheek to the other. Then Frank kisses her. First in deliberate reverence, intent to show his devotion and then with a fierce urgency. 

She vibrates under his touch - a quiet hum growing to a roaring peal. Her hands grasp at his coat, desperate to cling to him, for fear that he’ll fall away, that he’ll flee, that he’ll disappear.

He pulls his lips away from hers, leaning his forehead in to touch hers. His breath is ragged. He tries to regain control, to once again bury his longing and desire. He watches as Karen scrunches up her face and says a breathy “Goddammit Frank” as she delivers a blow with the heel of her hand to his chest. “Karen, I’m sorry.” 

“What for, Frank? I don’t want to be lonely anymore.” _I want this. I want you._ She wonders why she stopped short of saying it.


End file.
